


No Consideration for Others

by aces



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Academy Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-21
Updated: 2006-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:59:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces/pseuds/aces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like meta.  Or dramatic irony.  Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Consideration for Others

“ _What_ is that infernal racket?”

Ushas stalked up to Drax, arms folded across her chest, frowning in the way that even some of her professors found a little unnerving. “I am _trying_ to perform some calculations for an experiment and I cannot concentrate.”

Drax was leaning against the wall next to his room door. He twisted back to look at her, grin dying away from his face. “Erm,” he said, straightening. “They’re arguing. Again. Nobody else sounds like that when they argue—don’t you know that by now?”

Ushas rolled her eyes and marched down the corridor toward the only slightly muffled shouting and stomping. “You don’t want to go in there!” Drax called after her. “You know how they feel about being interrupted—”

She ignored him, coming to a halt in front of the doorway through which the argument was escalating. Usually the sound-proofed doors were quite good at actually muffling sound, but they had a habit of arguing with the door _open_.

No consideration for others.

She was about to rap sharply on the open door when somebody tall and angry swept past her, knocking her _into_ the door. “Watch where you’re going!” she yelled after him, but he ignored her. Down the corridor, Drax straightened up again and plastered a nervous smile on his face, but the other man ignored him too as he stalked past.

Ushas brushed her front down with a sniff and turned to the person still in the room.

“What was it this time?” she sighed, taking a seat at the disgustingly cluttered desk. Books and papers were stacked haphazardedly, amidst encrusted tea cups and leftover food scraps that she didn’t want to look at too closely—or smell.

“Nothing important,” Koschei muttered, sprawling onto the unmade bed and staring pointedly at the ceiling. 

“It’s never anything important,” Ushas retorted, and Koschei turned his glare on her. “Oh please,” she went on. “If you _must_ row like two Shobogans fighting over a mate, the least you could do is close the door so everyone _else_ can get on with their work.”

“I’m so sorry we were _bothering_ you.”

“You damned well should be,” Ushas answered grimly. “Come on, out with it. What has he done this time?”

Koschei frowned. “While it is quite flattering that you automatically assume it’s his fault…what makes you think it’s his fault?”

“You always assure me it’s his fault,” Ushas rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair and listening to it creak. She made sure to keep her hair away from anything too toxic on the desk. “I thought perhaps that if I cut through the usual recriminations and muttering and agreed with you from the outset, this might take a little less time. If you _must_ recriminate and mutter to yourself about what a bastard he is, shall I come back in about twenty minutes? Will that be enough time to get it out of your system?”

“Always nice to know I have _friends_ when I need them,” Koschei rolled away from her.

“Rassilon’s _beard_ ,” Ushas muttered to herself. She stood up, walked around the edge of the bed, and gingerly sat down on the edge of it, pushing Koschei’s legs out of the way. He frowned at her before staring ahead, curling into himself even more.

“Koschei.” She tried to keep her tone patient. She didn’t bother aiming for sympathetic; she found it usually sounded more like homicidal rage. “Whatever he’s done, or not done, or is about to do—go talk to him. Please.”

“Why should I.”

“You’re both such _children_ ,” she snapped, and he swiftly aimed another glare at her, fingering his new beard. She held up her hands. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” She breathed out, releasing some endorphins into her system and giving them a moment to work. “If you _don’t_ go talk to him,” and yes, she did sound infinitely more gentle, “he will sulk for the next month. I will be forced to act as go-between for the pair of you because you will refuse to speak to each other, _and_ I will be forced to spend more time with Drax because you will both try to spend more time with him in order to get him on your side, and he is a sniveling idiot.” She tried to arrange her facial features into something approaching pleading and wasn’t sure how effective it was, since the look Koschei gave her seemed to consist mostly of puzzlement. “For _my_ sake, would you go make up with him?”

“You just want to get back to your newest experiment,” Koschei said shrewdly.

“Yes, thank you, I would.” She smacked his leg as she stood up. “I have a life outside of shepherding the pair of you, though I doubt either of you self-absorbed fools have noticed. Go find him before he fumes so long that he refuses to talk to _anyone_ for the next week.”

“I don’t understand why he has to take everything so _personally_ ,” Koschei whined as he sat up. “Do you know anyone else who can hold such monumental grudges?”

“Yes,” Ushas sighed, “you. _Go_.”

*

He found Theta repeatedly kicking the observation dome wall in one of his favorite brooding spots. It was twilight outside, and the lights inside were only starting to turn on, so the other man’s face was shadowed, but he could read the tension running through Theta’s body anyway.

“You’re not supposed to storm out of your own room, you know,” Koschei said tentatively, staying back a little in case he needed to turn and _run_. “You’re supposed to kick _me_ out.”

“I was not capable of speaking to you anymore at that moment,” Theta answered gruffly. “I’m still not speaking to you.”

“Oh.” Koschei felt it was safe enough to come a little closer. “That’s funny, isn’t it, since you just spoke to me.”

Theta kicked the wall again, a little harder. Koschei took a step backward. He swallowed.

“I’ve just been lectured by Ushas,” he said. He had to say _some_ thing, and nothing else occurred to him in a blinding flash of brilliance. She’d herded him out of the room, escorted him down the hall as far as her own room, and pointedly slammed the door in his face. 

She was so damned _pushy_.

“She told me to make up with you,” he continued when Theta did no more than kick the wall a few more times. He hoped Theta was aiming his kicks at different places along the wall. Not that he didn’t trust Gallifreyan architectural engineering, but their ancestors were a bit _funny_ sometimes. “Otherwise she’ll have to mediate between the pair of us, since you won’t talk to me and I’ll refuse to be the first to make overtures. Oh, and she’ll have to spend more time with Drax. Apparently she doesn’t like him very much.”

“Why should I care?” Theta sounded slightly bored. And determined, as he continued to kick the wall.

“Because it’s _Ushas_. You know what she’s like when she gets annoyed.”

“She’s always annoyed.”

“ _More_ annoyed. With _us_.”

A pause in the regular thuds. Koschei waited; he knew Theta well enough to know when to use silence, let him think things through himself.

“What experiment is she working on now?” Theta asked.

“Um. I don’t know, actually. It’s a new one,” Koschei replied.

Theta sighed and turned to slump against the glass dome, folding his arms across his chest. “She might try it out on us,” he reflected.

Koschei hesitated, then took a few steps closer. “Without telling us,” he agreed. “She’s done it before. Usually to Drax,” he added, thoughtfully.

Theta’s head fell back, thumping softly against the glass. The lights seemed to be out in this section of the dome, as it was completely dark outside, and nearly so inside but for reflected light from down the corridor.

“I’m still angry,” Theta said, his eyes closed. “And I think you’re a total and complete ass.”

“I think you’re a manipulative bastard but I’m more scared of what Ushas will do to us if we don’t at least _pretend_ to get along,” Koschei answered frankly. “If you didn’t _sulk_ so much we wouldn’t have to worry about her.”

“Oh yes, it’s _always_ all my fault.” Theta didn’t sound annoyed, or even sarcastic, merely tired. He slid down the glass until he sat on the floor, knees drawn up close to his body. Koschei took a few more steps, until he stood uncertainly over his friend. Theta held up his hand without looking, and Koschei took it, sitting down next to him.

“We’re very childish,” Theta told him seriously, keeping his fingers tangled in Koschei’s and keeping his eyes closed.

“ _You’re_ the one who sulks,” Koschei pointed out.

“You pout. And throw temper tantrums.”

“So Ushas is right about us and has every right to be annoyed?”

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far,” Theta said, opening his eyes wide. He glanced at Koschei, leaned his shoulder against his friend’s. Koschei smiled a little, leaning in against him.

“We should probably keep letting her think she has, though,” he said. “Just in case she gets bored with using Drax as her test subject.”

Theta laughed a little, just a little, but Koschei felt like he could relax fully now. “I hate fighting with you,” he said.

Theta turned his head to look at him, then slipped his arm around Koschei’s shoulders. “Perhaps someday we’ll work out how to get along with each other without squabbling?” he suggested hopefully.

Koschei let Theta take all his weight as he leant fully against his friend and closed his eyes against the reflected light from down the corridor. “You’re always the optimist,” he said.

 

END


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